S A C R I F I C E
by weissofthecorax
Summary: Their pain is his pain, and if he can't even protect his captain's dream, then his ambition means nothing. But how far will he go to protect what is his? Post-Moria Thriller Bark spoilers! Warning: Rated M for Graphic Violence & Injury; read at your own risk.
1. S U R R E N D E R

SURRENDER

* * *

Are his ears bleeding? Is the silence reverberating in his head a result of the ear-splitting shock, or is it the silence of death?

It is not with his ears but his body that he hears his own heart slamming in his chest - _he_ is alive, at least, although every muscle in his body trembles with each jagging breath he takes, every unsteady harsh gasp stabbing his ribs like a hundred new fractures.

When he opens his eyes, a deathly scene of grays and reds greets him.

Bodies lie everywhere among the shattered rubble of Thriller Bark, spattered with blood and smeared with dirt under the shifting clouds of smoke and dust. People he barely knows - are they alive? He doesn't know, and he's barely alive himself.

He almost slips back into the blissful void of unconsciousness.

_Are they alive?_ The thought jolts through him like a lightning strike. Zoro lifts his head too quickly and grits his teeth as his vision swims.

Franky is the first his eyes find, and he lies supine nearby, unmoving - but Zoro can see the rise and fall of his chest, as unsteady as his own, but breathing all the same. So the swordsman shifts his gaze to the next nearest shipmate.

Nami is sprawled on her side several yards away. She could be sleeping, her face is so peaceful, but there's a raw scarlet abrasion on her forehead and she's not moving - is she even - _is she - _

Zoro surges to his feet - one step, two steps - his knees lock and he stumbles a third step, forces his feet forward a fourth, a fifth, wheezing sharp breaths in and out so fast his diaphragm seizes and black spots burst in his eyes.

His knees crack against broken stone. He just manages to catch himself with a hand - his limbs won't listen to him - rubble skins his palm and he topples over, his mouth full of a coppery fire. A cough wracks his body, every hacking struggle for air shooting knives of bristling agony through every fracture - _how many, he's lost count -_

Red flecks the ground beneath him, dripping from a burning stream of blood that burbles past his lips and down his chin. He thinks his nose is bleeding as well, but the gray world dips and spins, a blur of shattered stone and smoking skies.

His legs refuse to lift him. Zoro reaches forward, stretching one painstaking inch at a time, gritting his teeth against grinding fractures and a fresh flood of blood - he clasps a fallen wall, squeezes his eyes shut against the dizzying gray world, and drags himself across the ruins - one arm-length at a time, reaching, hacking, gritting, until he reaches Nami's side.

He tries to be gentle as he gropes her neck for a pulse.

For six heavy slamming heartbeats, he can't feel her under his own throbbing pulse but as he lies there and draws measured breaths, it thrums up from under the pounding of his blood, an unsteady drum at his fingertips.

_She's alive_. A sigh has barely crossed his lips before he's searching for the next shipmate.

He doesn't see the others. Brook is nearby, and Zoro strains to rise again - the skeleton is trapped under a collapsed wall, hanging slack and lifeless.

Zoro freezes. His arms tremble under his weight but he doesn't dare move as, from a great distance, a noise finally reaches his ringing ears.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Footsteps, heavy footsteps, rubble crumbling under the weight with a crash and clatter like cymbals smashing through the leaden curtain of silence.

_Who, in this landscape of death, could be walking_.

There's only one answer, in Zoro's mind, and he pushes himself away from Nami, slowly, carefully as he becomes more aware of sounds - the clinking of his swords at his hip, the crack and patter of debris shifting under him.

His legs still aren't working, and the footsteps are clacking ever closer, steady, unhurried. Zoro crawls around a pile of broken columns and presses himself to the gritty surface, sucking in shallow breaths past gritted teeth. Closer, closer, the clacking comes. Zoro braces himself against the tumbledown wall, pulls himself upright, struggling to control his respiration as every inhalation gasps down his throat.

It's him alone - the element of surprise is all he has - _he can't give himself away -_

With a rib-cracking gulp, Zoro stills, flattened against the wall - silent as the smoke, save for the chugging of the blood in his ears.

The towering bulk of Kuma the Tyrant looms into view. The Warlord strides right by Franky, Brook, and Nami without so much as a glance - steady, unhurried - no, _assured_ that his prey cannot escape.

Zoro's heart falters and thumps in painful, chest-squeezing palpitations as it dawns on him what prey the Tyrant seeks.

His target lies ahead, his limp ragged form partially obscured by a splintered slab of wall. Zoro watches, unable to move away, straining just to hold himself up against the crumbling ruins, as the Warlord plods across the field of shattered stone and bodies, one slow, sure stomp after another carrying him closer, closer to -

_Luffy_. Zoro tastes fresh blood, hot and sudden on his tongue, washing past clenched teeth, salty stinging his cracked lips.

_Luffy_. Supine, motionless, his body tattered, his fresh bandages bloodied already - _dead to the world, helpless - _and the Tyrant clomping ever closer to claim his prize.

_No_.

Zoro drags himself further upright, grinding his jaws against the knives stabbing through fractured bones and torn muscles, forcing himself to put weight on his legs even as they threaten to collapse - _no -_

He braces his back against the stone, sucking in another deep gulp of air - the Warlord looms over Luffy's inert body - _no - _Zoro stumbles forward a step, another, leaving his support behind.

His knees buckle and he nearly topples over but - _no - _Kuma lifts a hand, grasps the fragmented wall that blocks his way.

Zoro hears the _squish_, and the rubble flies away, hurtling over his head with a _whoosh _that makes his ears ache and all the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Kuma's way is clear - _no - _Luffy rests within reach, his head listed to the side, his face slack with dreamless slumber even as Kuma bends over him, one monstrous paw outstretched to claim - _no - no - no -_

_Move. _His blood thunders with a burst of adrenaline. _Move. _The quake in his legs subsides with the rush of energy. _Move!_

He steadies his footing, grips the Wado Ichimonji - _no - _he moves his hand to the Sandai Kitetsu - its bloodthirsty spirit screams. _Move! _

_Cut! _

The Tyrant's hand grasps his captain by the front of his tattered vest, _lifts his captain - _his limp body sagging back to the shattered earth, dark head lolling back to thump the stone -

_Kill! _

Zoro crouches, the Kitetsu gripped tight at his right hip, the cursed blade bellowing in its sheath for blood to quench its thirst -

_Protect!_

Zoro charges.


	2. A B A N D O N

_(A/n) Just a quick word from the Weiss: Writing these chapters consumes a huge amount of energy and leaves me very emotionally drained. I'm so glad everyone enjoyed Part 1 but please understand that I may be unable to put out more than one chapter every 2 weeks. Please have patience. I promise it will be worth the wait. Without further ado, here is Part 2~_

* * *

ABANDON

* * *

_A dash, a flash, _the Kitetsu flies screaming from its sheath and the Tyrant sees nothing until it's too late - the blade bites, cloth and skin and muscle splitting beneath its keen edge - _yes! - _Luffy drops free, slumping motionless to the ground - _yes!_

_Shishi Sonson!_

_A clash_, the grind and dig of sharp steel against - _no - _that is_ not bone - the blade tears free, blood splurts, _but_ he knows - _even before he hits the ground, even as he slams the howling sword back into its sheath, _he knows this is not right_.

His boots slam against broken stone, and it takes every ounce of strength left in his burning, quivering, tearing muscles to _not topple over - _but as his momentum drags him forward, his knees crash into the ground and he grits his teeth against the hot tangy rush of blood in his mouth, both hands clutching the Kitetsu by its thrumming hilt and sheath - _maybe if he grips it tight enough - he can hold himself together, too - just a little longer - just a little -_

Behind him, Zoro hears the towering Warlord groan, and he couldn't turn to confirm the damage even if he needed to - _he chokes,_ coughs up a string of bloody saliva that burns every cut and crack in his lips_, _every muscle in his back screaming with effort, _every broken rib jarring, jolting, _as he strains_ just to keep himself in an upright crouch - _but he doesn't _need_ to confirm, because _he already knows_.

He _knows_ the clash of steel on steel as surely as he knows every turn in the weave of the Wado Ichimonji's hilt, and his heart thumps a heavy, halting stutter as, behind him, there rises the crackling _zzt! zzt! _of exposed circuits.

Cloth slits and tears, and a hissing fills the air, along with the searing stench of burnt wires. Grinding his teeth against the tremors in his thighs, Zoro lifts one shaking knee off the ground and twists halfway around, but _what he sees - his stomach drops -_

"_What the…?!"_

The shoulder under Kuma the Tyrant's ripped shirt is _metal - artificial skin rent, tattered and scorched - barely dented_ by what was one of Zoro's _strongest Iai attacks. _

Energy crepitates all around the dimpled metal, fizzing and snapping like a nest of angered snakes.

Zoro tightens his hands on the Kitetsu, but his grip on the sword does nothing to steady the sudden jag of his breath, nor the vice wrenching his chest in ever-tightening palpitations. "_You're a - "_ he chokes out, as Kuma turns, one lumbering step at a time, "A cyborg like Franky?!"

_But he knows he's wrong,_ even as the words leap from his tongue with another coppery flash of spittle - because he _knows_ the clash between swords and _this - no - this -_

"_No_," he wheezes, already bracing his feet for evasive action - his hamstrings seizing in protest - his sides exploding with spasms, every desperate sucking breath he takes - "_He's even harder than iron!"_

Whatever he is, he stands between Zoro and his captain's limp form, and Zoro's blood boils with renewed adrenaline, chugs a little faster, a little stronger - _it's him alone against this monster and he must - he must -_

The towering man opens his mouth with a mechanical _click_, just as Zoro manages to face him, wobbling in a crouch, barely off his shuddering knees, his skinned hands and quivering arms braced against biting rubble, the only supports that keep his hunched broken body off the ground.

The Tyrant's mouth cranks even wider and there's a glint of light in his gullet, glowing, building, flashing brighter, fiercer, hotter - energy coruscates all around the gaping maw, arcs of glaring white-hot power that burn Zoro's eyes - and his heart is in his throat, choking, bleeding, _but_ _he can't look away - like a moth to the flame -_

_Beep! Beep! Beep! _The warning's shrill scream pierces his ears, his brain, his bones, and _still he cannot look away_ and his gums bleed as his jaw clenches and - _no! - move! - why won't his legs move -_

A piercing _ping! - a flare - a scorching heat - _Zoro shoves, cramping legs and leaden arms, all four together launching himself through the air, one last desperate effort, as the laser hurtles towards him - streaking by mere inches from his arm, a blaze of agony, instant sunburn _or worse - is his skin bubbling -_

The laser slams into the ground and discharges in a fiery _boom_ that plows into his airborne body and blasts every last scrap of air from his lungs in a useless shout, flipping him head over heels over head until his back smashes against a wall, stone shattering under the impact, _fractures upon fractures_.

He slides down, slumps backwards against the crumbling wall, pitched back into that dizzying world of ringing silence, limbs sluggish and uncoordinated as he crumples first to his knees, then to his hands - caving under his weight, skin shaving away from his palms, forearms, elbows, as he collapses to the splintered ground.

He lies still not by choice, but because his limbs refuse his every command - a shiver, a tremor, no more response as he grits his teeth and struggles to draw breath into his seizing lungs, sucking in only dirt and smoke.

He coughs, every hacking gasp a hundred knives in his chest, bringing up blood and - yes that bitter sting in his throat is bile...

Even his head seems too heavy to lift. Wheezing, spitting, straining, he scrapes his face across the stone until the soaring silhouette of the Tyrant looms in the corner of his swimming vision.

The Warlord stands behind him, unmoving, his mouth smoking. A massive paw lifts to the dented left shoulder, tugs the torn shirt up and together, slowly, unworried, unhurried - _his prey is going nowhere fast - _Zoro grinds his teeth_, shakes_ with a renewed attempt to _move, move, move!_

Between them, the place Zoro had crouched smolders, and an exposed iron beam sizzles and oozes in heavy glooping droplets.

"Im... possible," he pants, pushing at the ground, pushing to rise, fighting the leaden fatigue in his arms, "The iron... melted!"

But it's not the liquefying iron that sends his lungs into paroxysms again - but what lies beyond it, beyond the smoldering rubble, beyond the Tyrant - _his captain_.

_Lu... ffy..._

His arms push again - _Move! - _every muscle chording out with the effort to rise again - _move! - _his back bows - _No! - Move! - _his head drops - _NO! - Move! - _blood leaks from between clenched teeth - _Move!_

_He must -_

_He - must - _

_MOVE!_


End file.
